


Change Can Be For The Better (But Ew, Why Would You?)

by Bam4Me



Series: Stiles in a skirt [1]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Agender Stiles Stilinski, Alive Allison, Alive Erica, Alive Erica Reyes, Alive Vernon Boyd, Derek is a good bro, F/F, Finstock is a sweet baby and we love him, Fluff, Genderqueer Stiles, Lydia is the best bro, M/M, Malia is like that bro that lets you do all the bad things while drunk, Panic Attacks, Scott is a good bro, Stiles doesn't change his pronouns because he doesn't particularly care one way or another, Stiles wears Skirts, Stiles-centric, not plotty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bam4Me/pseuds/Bam4Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was odd, he knew this. His entire life had been like a really bad book, with very few funny moments in between, to the point where people just accepted that he was going to do and say weird shit and get funny looks.</p><p>That's why he loved his pack. They didn't just accept it, they loved it, and that's why he loved them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change Can Be For The Better (But Ew, Why Would You?)

**Author's Note:**

> *bullshits summary off the top of my head because im tired and cranky and hungry* Close enough!
> 
> Seriously, the beginning of this might not fully FIT with the storyline itself, because it was originally supposed to be a 'five times the sheriff heard Stiles say something weird, and one time Stiles heard the sheriff say something weird' fic, but then it EVOLVED. It might not exactly FIT with the rest of the story, but I think it's important to get a feel for the relationship that John and Stiles have with each other.

 

It was a long day at the office. He’d been called on a domestic dispute at two in the afternoon that day, and it nearly lasted two whole hours, and that was before they hauled both of them into the station to spend the night in cells away from each other. It was almost amazing how crazy people could get over monopoly.

 

John was thinking about writing a law to congress, to ban it entirely.

 

No no, him and Stiles were _sane_. They did normal family things, like, watching baseball on tv and shoving feet into each other’s laps when they think the other one is falling asleep on them.

 

To be honest, neither of them actually liked baseball. It was always Claudia’s thing.

 

It was also a tradition that neither of them stopped though.

 

John grinned a little, remembering all the baseball games she used to drag the three of them two when Stiles was still little, how he’d sit in his mama’s lap and ask a million and a half questions on what the hell people were beating up that ball for.

 

She was always so patient with him, telling him all about the game and its players. Though, they all drew the line at her putting Stiles’ in little league after the toddler got distracted and ended up making flower crowns with one of the girls on the toddler’s cheerleading team.

 

Suffice to say, Claudia was actually easily placated by her little one using pompoms and dancing on the sidelines. He always looked so damn cute in those outfits.

 

John was still smiling at that when he pulled into the driveway, simultaneously exasperated to see Lydia’s car and Scott’s bike out front, but also relived that they at least left him a space in the driveway. Street parking here was hell in the mornings.

 

Come to think of it, this used to be such a respectable neighborhood before him and Claudia moved in. Maybe Stilinskis’ just have a natural ability to mess shit up. But, in good ways.

 

He’s _pretty_ sure it’s in good ways.

 

He got out, glad for once that he didn’t get take out, since Stiles had a tendency to cook enough for an army when people were over.

 

He pushed the key into the front door, quietly congratulating his absent minded son on actually locking it for once in his mind, before backtracking when he realized that Allison was probably the one to do it since he could hear her in the living room.

 

He rolled his eyes, pushing the door open anyways.

 

Only to hear some horrifying things.

 

“-I mean, it’s not even the first dick I’ve sucked, so I’m not sure why he was looking t me like that-“

 

John paused in the doorway to the living room, looking like slightly constipated. Stiles cringed at him. “Uh-“

 

John held up a hand, stopping Stiles, before shaking his head, “No no, I don’t even want to know, please don’t tell me.”

 

Stiles nodded, “I can do that.” He didn’t look particularly sorry, but Allison was rather horrified, and Lydia was snickering on John’s favorite armchair, camped out there with a scary looking book full of equations in her lap. Hand written.

 

He shook his head, mentally reminding himself that Lydia Martin was smart enough to take over the world one day, and if she did, him and Stiles would be among the first to pledge their allegiance, if only because they fully trusted her to destroy anyone who stood in her way.

 

“Good.”

 

He left to go to the kitchen then, deciding not to deal with the shocked teenager in the living room.

 

He could hear Allison telling Stiles how close that was, before his son laughed, telling her that her father hadn’t been single long enough for her to get to the level of ‘too much information’ that him and the others were already at. He mentally agreed.

 

He’s heard worse.

 

***

 

“I mean, it’s not supposed to look like that, is it?”

 

“Stiles, it looks fine.”

 

Stiles shook his head, lifting the mirror again with a distressed look, “But, Daddy, it’s all crooked!”

 

John sighed, getting off his bed and crossing the room to where Stiles was sitting at Claudia’s old make up table. Normally, Stiles was fine doing this in his room, but he said he needed a stand-up mirror without having to sit on the bathroom counter, since that could get awkward if he fell off.

 

John honestly didn’t mind. Half the time, he could barely bring himself to look at the table when he was getting ready in the morning, but Stiles kept the thing clean and neat so he wouldn’t have to.

 

It had oddly enough, eased a knot in his stomach, that he hadn’t even known was there, the first time he saw it covered in Stiles’ things one day. He didn’t even question it when Stiles started using it more often when he was home himself.

 

He sat on the ottoman next to Stiles, the one that Stiles used to paint his toenails on yesterday while John read a book in bed. He reached out, pulling the mirror out of Stiles’ hand and put it on the table. Stiles just gave him the most upset look though. He smiled at him, trying to ease his son.

 

He smiled, looking into those big bright eyes, just like his mama’s. “You look fine, Stiles. Get me one of those towels though.”

 

Stiles sighed, reaching behind him for the makeup remover, handing one of the towels to his father before closing his eyes. John was through, holding his son’s face in place while he wiped off the eye liner and cleaned everything else off.

 

When Stiles was, once more, pale cheeked, and smooth skinned, John pulled back, hands going to his lap while he studied Stiles. “Sweetheart, why do you even wear it if it distresses you so much?”

 

Stiles looked away, not sure if he actually had an answer for that.

 

John shook his head, going on, “You know, when you were born, I used to think to myself, how much easier your teen years would be, since I at least know how boys work. You though, if there’s anything I should have known from your childhood, is that you don’t conform to any standards, no matter the cost to you or anyone around you.”

 

Stiles looked down, feeling guilty, before having his head nudged back up by John’s hand on his neck.

 

His father was smiling at him, gentle and loving. Stiles let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

 

“I don’t want to know why you do it because I don’t think you should; I want to know why you do it because I honestly want to know why you do something that upsets you so much.”

 

Stiles shrugged, “The definition of insanity is doing something over and over, expecting different results.”

 

“But the definition of practice is to do something over and over, so you can get better. Are you doing the same thing and hoping, or do you honestly want to make yourself look different?”

 

Stiles frowned, shrugging again, “I… I think I like the repetitive motion. It’s like… painting. But, on a face.”

 

John nodded, “You don’t want to actually wear it in public, do you?”

 

Stiles shook his head, “I’m not _ashamed_ of liking makeup, Daddy, and I _would_ wear it outside the house, but I rub my eyes a lot, and I don’t like reapplying lipstick too much, makes my lips sore for some reason. It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s that I have a pathological fear of someone looking at me because I have something on my face.”

 

John nodded, “You never liked getting anything on you as a little kid, not when anyone other than me or your mom could see you.”

 

Stiles bit his lower lip, making an amused face, “No, I did not. I remember that I had more control over the baby wipes than Mama did. Used to take them from her and scrub my own face clean because it bothered me so much.”

 

John grinned, “Very much so. So, that brings me back to, why do you do it? It makes you upset when you get it wrong, though, I wouldn’t much say you got it wrong, just not how you were expecting.”

 

Stiles sighed, “I don’t know. I do kind of like how I look with it on. I’ve always been androgynous, Scott used to say I could pass as either if I tried… you know, I never actually gave real thought to that until I made friends with drag queens, apparently, it gives good thought to how one would look in six in heals.”

 

John bit back a laugh, “And, how _would_ you look in six in heals.”

 

Stiles grinned, “Bad, because I’d be on the floor, and probably broken.”

 

John did laugh this time, eyes sparkling, “Okay, only flats then.” John sighed, pulling Stiles half into his arms with a hug. Stiles held back, and for a moment John wondered why it felt like he’d slip away if Stiles let go right now.

 

Oh… they were bonding. Ew. Melissa did that with Scott sometimes, and, it’s not like him and Stiles _don’t_ bond or anything, just, that, they’re more of the silent bonding types. They bond through invading each other’s space and making sure the other was healthy.

 

Maybe he should make them have open chats about things more often.

 

***

 

It was summer. Things were hot, and Stiles had way too much free time on his hands.

 

He was currently lounging in John’s office, waiting for his dad to get back from another domestic –which is funny, cause it’s the same one that he got called onto a month ago, but this time they’re playing yahtzee, and have a whole _group_ of people trying to kill each other. John is going to formally ask them to either put a hold on their monthly game night, or keep it to boring games.

Stiles’ eyes popped open when he heard the door creak open, not even having realized that he was falling asleep on the couch. John stepped in with a smile, looking tired, and a bag of diner food in his hands. Stiles just hoped he’d followed his diet requirements when getting it, because he wasn’t above scolding his father in front of his deputies.

 

“Hey, kiddo. You bored?”

 

Stiles nodded, sitting up before letting out a small groan, “My head hurts. Tired.”

 

John nodded, “Kay, well, you can nap in here after lunch while I’m doing paperwork.”

 

Stiles nodded, ambling off the sofa so he could try and be awake for a conversation for a while.

 

John was giving him a weird look though, and that woke him up a little more. “What?”

 

John shrugged, setting a container with chicken and rice in front of him before giving him a bottle of water.

 

To be honest, other than his curly fries addiction, Stiles ate more healthy than most people John has ever met, and he didn’t even need to be encouraged like John himself did.

 

They were quiet for a bit, Stiles giving him suspicious looks behind his food while John just kept looking suspicious.

 

“Okay, just spill.”

 

John lowered the turkey burger back down, sighing, “I’ve been wondering lately, is all.”

 

Stiles nodded, “Okay, about what?”

 

John shrugged, “You told me once, that you wouldn’t mind passing for female. I mean, you _could_. I just… I was wondering if you ever wanted to.”

 

Stiles was quiet for a minute, “You want me to be a girl, Daddy?”

 

John shook his head, “I don’t care if you’re male or female, Stiles. I want you to be _happy_ is all.”

 

Stiles nodded, “I like male pronouns.”

 

John nodded, “Then, you use male pronouns. What I want to know, is if clothes would make you more comfortable if they fit your self image.”

 

Stiles shrugged, “I guess? I mean, sometimes I want to wear skirts. Used to, when I was little.”

 

John smiled fondly, “I remember that, sweetheart. You were the prettiest boy on the cheerleading team.”

 

Stiles smiled back, “I don’t know about that, Scotty was pretty too, that one year that he joined me.”

 

John just grinned, shaking his head in amusement.

 

***

 

The store was the same one that John always took him to, to buy his usual boring lumberjack plaid shirts and overly tight pants.

 

But, they were in the girls section now.

 

Stiles vaguely gave a thought to not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea about them being there. He really didn’t want anyone labeling his dad as a pervert for going through the teen girls section of the clothes department, because he wasn’t fully sure if he could admit to wanting the clothes here for himself.

 

It was oddly, harder than he thought it would be, standing here and trying to figure out if any of it would even fit him at all. It’s not like he had the shape for most of these things.

 

Looking over at his dad though, he found the man giving the younger girl’s section a calculated look.

 

“What are you thinking?”

 

His dad looked back over him and shrugged, “Well, you don’t exactly have hips, or breasts, and while that’s not much of an issue, you should probably be looking for large sized pre-teen clothes. You know, they _do_ have bras for flat chested girls. I never really understood why, still don’t, but they _could_ add a little bit of padding to fill things out.”

 

Stiles looked up at the ceiling, trying not to laugh, “Christ, I never thought I’d have _this_ talk with my father.”

 

John shrugged, “Call it payback, for all the awful things I’ve heard you say over the years.”

 

“Shit, I knew that would come back to haunt me.”

 

***

 

The first time the pack saw him after his new make over, Stiles was not ready for it.

 

Actually, he’d been on his way out the door, already running a little late for a job interview.

 

To be honest, he’s not going to lie. He looked fucking fabulous right now, he’s not above giving himself compliments at the current moment. He was even wearing eye liner, and it was on straight and everything, and he had a tube of lip gloss clamped between his teeth for later application while he juggled his cell phone and keys in his hands, thinking about how he now knew why girls needed purses.

 

He was flat chested, and none of his clothes had pockets right now, and he needed to _hold_ things. He should get a purse this weekend. He didn’t even have boobs or a bra to stick thing in –he’d opted for loose shirts as opposed to padding, and even when wearing tight shirts, he didn’t even look too bad, so he wasn’t gonna wrestle with one of those till he had to.

 

He stopped short though, giving a horrified look to the group –and, why the fuck do they always come in groups?- in front of him, nearly dropping the tube of lip gloss before swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.

 

Scott gave him a funny look, “Stiles, you look a bit lost, you okay?”

 

Stiles’ eyes went wide, and he felt slightly like he was going to pass out. He could feel his cheeks, cold, like they’d been drained of blood. He might actually pass out.

 

And he really needs to get to that interview.

 

He spit the lip gloss tube into his hand, barely even managing to mumble out, “I… I’m late for a job interview.”

 

Lydia nodded, looking around for a moment and giving everyone there the stink eye, as if daring them to say anything.

 

“Those shoes don’t match your outfit. I know you have a better pair inside, those cute brown ankle boots, come on, I’ll drive you, you know I’m faster than you are.”

 

Stiles nodded, numbly reaching back to open the door again, pushing it open. He barely even remembered letting Lydia guide him into changing his shoes at all, but did vaguely note that these ones looked better with his pencil skirt and loose white blouse. Better than the others had, at least. Stiles still did not mix with heals.

 

He seemed to come back to himself when Lydia was guiding him out the front door to her car. None of the pack were still in sight, but he wouldn’t blame them if one or two stuck around to see what was happening.

 

Lydia gently nudged him into the seat, and did his seat belt up for him. He opened his mouth, thinking about telling her that he could do that himself, but nothing came out.

 

Lydia just gave him a sad look and got into the driver’s side. “Where am I taking you?”

 

Stiles let out a small breath, finally finding his voice again, “Agon’s Bookstore. I’m applying to be Mrs. Myrik’s new assistant. Her old one is off at college now.”

 

Lydia nodded, speeding down the street with her usual madman skill. Stiles shuddered a little, finally coming all the way out of his head, “Please don’t kill us on our way there, I want to live to be rejected for this job, please.”

 

Lydia turned to him with a grin, “No, I’m pretty sure you’ll get the job.”

 

“Then please don’t kill me before we get there. Not everyone can use Daddy’s credit card to buy cute clothes.”

 

Lydia hummed a little, “Well, it’s the only time I actually get to talk to him much anymore, asking if he can buy me things. Not like he ever says no anyways. By the way, I like your look. With a cute pair of reading glasses on, you could totally pass for the hot librarian type.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes to the side to look at her, “Don’t hot librarians usually have long hair in a bun?”

 

Lydia nodded, “Okay, they do, but you have a cute little pixie cut right now, and that’s also pretty good. Hell, if I didn’t know you didn’t actually identify as male, I’d hit on you.”

 

Stiles grinned, “I knew you’d eventually stop pretending to like boys at some point.”

 

Lydia was quiet for half a minute. “Stiles, why are you dressed like this? I’m not judging you, I honestly want to know. Last I knew, you stopped wearing skirts before fourth grade-“

 

“-when my mother died.”

 

Lydia was quiet for a bit longer, and Stiles looked down to see his keys and phone still in his hand, and the lip gloss tube still in the other. He pulled down the mirror visor, and started applying the bright pink sheer to his lips. “You know, I never identified as female. When I was little, I liked wearing skirts, but I was still one of the boys. I got rough and dirty, I was too loud, and I made messes.

 

“But then, I grew up. Mama left, and it hurt. It hurt too much to wear dresses and skirts, because me and her went shopping for those _together_ and I loved that. But then, I got older. I wanted to be rough, but I wanted to look pretty. I didn’t want to choose between them, but I thought I had to.”

 

They pulled up next to the book store, and Stiles looked down at his phone to see that they had a few more minutes. He took a deep breath and let the rest come out of him, needing the relief that came from not holding back anymore. “See, I need to thank you, Lydia. You, and Allison, and Kira and Malia. You made me realize, that I can still be pretty, and that it doesn’t have to hurt to _want_ to be pretty anymore, and that… that I don’t have to give up being rough, and getting messy to do it. I’m still a boy, but I guess, that’s only, in so much as that I use male pronouns, so, I guess you could say I’m agender, but I wouldn’t even mind if you used female pronouns with me, whatever makes you most comfortable, will make me most comfortable, because I have no strong feelings either way.”

 

Stiles turned to look at the redhead, and Lydia looked like she wanted to cry. In a good way, though. “I just… thanks.”

 

Lydia nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. She looked a little choked up, and Stiles wanted to take the time and hold her close so she could get a hold of everything, but he really did need to make that appointment. “Of course, Stiles. You’re you, and you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

 

Stiles nodded, “If you stay here for a half hour, we can go get lunch when I’m back out. That sound good?”

 

Lydia nodded, pulling in a heavy breath of air, “Yeah, I’ll be waiting.”

 

***

 

The first time Stiles willingly wore a dress around the pack, he could tell something was off.

 

For one, Scott and Lydia seemed the only ones not acting like they were avoiding looking at him.

 

Shit, even creeper Peter wasn’t leering at him like he usually did.

 

Stiles felt his stomach drop like it had, back on his front porch when the pack had first found him. He felt like he was standing in a wolf’s den, and for once, that didn’t mean safety.

 

Scott, he had always acted like anything Stiles did was normal. Him and Lydia, they grew up with Stiles, and saw him in skirts more than anything as a child, and sometimes Stiles would still do make overs in Scott’s room after a stressful day at school.

 

But… right now… he felt a hand on his arm and jerked; nearly falling off the couch he was sitting on, not even realizing that he was curled up on the end of the couch, arms defensive around his legs with his eyes closed. He… he wasn’t exactly sure how long he’d been there, and he didn’t fully remember sitting down.

 

He did know that he felt like his head was swimming, and Peter was sitting in front of him, looking more concerned than Stiles had ever seen the wolf.

 

Peter was saying something, but it barely registered in his mind.

 

Stiles’ own mind though, it was screaming. _Get out get out get OUT of here right now, this isn’t a safe place!_

 

But… his legs didn’t seem to be working. He vaguely wondered if he was going to die here. Christ, that would be a way to go. Mind telling him that he’s not going to be okay unless he leaves, and his body to weak at the very thought to take him somewhere else.

 

He’s faced down demons, alphas, omegas, hell, he’s faced down everything a teenager should never have to deal with.

 

He’s never felt so weak though. Has he been poisoned? It that why he’s not okay? Drugged? He feels drugged right now.

 

He ate a pot brownie at a party once. See, Stiles doesn’t go to high school parties, they’re usually full of people he’d rather avoid, and, oddly enough, had a lot more sex involved than he was actually comfortable with.

 

To be honest, college parties were a little different. Pot everywhere, and alcohol, but, as long as it wasn’t a frat or sorority party, they were usually very tame in terms of things that could make a person uncomfortable. The worst Stiles’ had ever come across at a college party, was that pot brownie.

 

See, turns out, Stiles is allergic to pot.

 

It didn’t give him a very big reaction, but it _did_ swell up a blood vessel in his head, and nearly gave him an aneurism. That had been one hospital visit he didn’t want to repeat. It wasn’t the look Melissa gave him, in fact, she was very understanding.

 

It was the pain.

 

He didn’t feel any pain right now. He felt… like he was dreaming. Nothing was real, and if you looked away from something for a second, it changed.

 

“Stiles. Stiles, you need to open your eyes.”

 

Stiles let out a painful lungful of air, he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “No. I want to go home.”

 

Peter was gone from in front of him. Lydia was talking. Where did Peter go.

 

Someone’s arms were around him.

 

He uncurled from his spot, thankful that he was wearing leggings, because he’s pretty sure that most of his skirt had been skewed before Lydia reached over absently to smooth it down for him. He looked at her small hands, wondering why she had always seemed –and still was- so much stronger than him. How could something smaller, be stronger.

 

He kind of wanted to bury his head in her neck and breathe in like Scott sometimes did to him when he was upset.

 

Scott said that home smelt like relief. Lydia and Scott smelt like home.

 

He thought about reaching out grabby hands to pull her to him, but found him held back by something.

 

He looked down, an arm around his waist, keeping him anchored to his spot on the couch. He looked over to see who was attached to the arm, and blanched, finding Peter looking back at him with gentle eyes, looking concerned.

 

He felt himself crashing back down into his own body, eyes clearing up from the fog they had been swimming in just enough to focus, and realize that _Peter Hale_ was holding him.

 

He felt himself clearing up, and his body didn’t feel any less weak, and his mind felt like it had bugs in it, moving around.

 

He wanted to be sick. He’s pretty sure that if he wasn’t so weak, he’d be throwing up.

 

Stiles wanted out of here, he wanted out right now.

 

He pulled out of the wolf’s arms, almost surprised that Peter actually let him go, nearly falling into Scott’s lap as he went down. “I want to go home.”

 

Scott nodded, “I know you do, buddy. I’ll take you home.”

 

It wasn’t until they were in the elevator to the bottom floor, Lydia holding onto Stiles’ hand with a tight grip that made his legs feel a little weak, that Stiles realized that he was mainly leaning against Scott’s side, Scott being one of the only things holding him up at the moment. “Why was Peter holding me?”

 

Scott and Lydia gave each other a worried look, and Lydia raised Stiles’ right hand in hers, directing him to look at the red scratch marks on his arm, one of them looking deep enough to be raw with little droplets of blood welling up on it. “You started scratching yourself and muttering. We tried to get you to stop, but Peter got worried the longer you itched, and Scott told everyone else to get out of the living room. Peter held your arms down till you stopped.”

 

Stiles nodded, feeling Scott’s left arm tighten around his waist, and it nearly sent him sprawling further against his friend’s chest. He felt weak.

 

Why did he feel weak?

 

***

 

When Stiles next opened his eyes, it was… daytime. The clock said it was around ten in the morning, and he scrambled for his phone, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was a Saturday. No work today.

 

He let out an odd groan though. He didn’t remember most of the day before.

 

He looked around for a minute, trying to find some sort of clue as to what he’d been doing the day before, and landed on a pill bottle next to his laptop across the room. He only had one pill bottle that looked like that.

 

“Scott made you take one of those after he brought you home last night.”

 

Stiles frowned, head shaking, and reached out to grab the water bottle on the bedside table, opening before turning to give the bedroom door an odd look. “Why are you here?”

 

Derek’s jaw clenched a little before the wolf came into the room, sitting at his desk chair and looking away, “To apologize.”

 

Stiles shook his head, heavy limbs slumping back into the soft bed spread around him while he took another small drink. “I’m sorry; I don’t remember what happened yesterday. What stupid thing did you do now?”

 

Derek didn’t get annoyed, an amused look crossing his face instead, so Stiles assumed that it must not have been all that bad. “I told the pack that if I saw any of them giving you weird looks, I’d beat the shit out of them.”

 

Stiles shrugged, legs tangling up in the blanket comfortably. “That doesn’t sound so bad, kind of nice actually.”

 

Derek shook his head, “No, it’s worse than that. I was apparently, too cruel when I said it, and it convinced everyone to avoid you entirely. That in turn, because of its abnormality, is probably why you then had a panic attack in my living room, because you’re not actually a person who’s used to being ignored in a group.”

 

Stiles was quiet for a minute, still nursing from the slowly draining water bottle. “Are you calling me an attention whore?”

 

Derek rolled his eyes, “Hardly. If anyone’s the odd one out in this equation, it’s my and Scott’s betas who insist that you be the center of their worlds entirely. I think Erica and Issac nearly had a panic attack when you started scratching at your arm. Stiles, everyone in this pack is very in tune with you, whether they admit to it or not. We weren’t avoiding you because we don’t like the way you look, I, incorrectly, thought that it would help you adjust if you weren’t the center of attention for once.”

 

Stiles snorted, “Okay, I can see why that would make me freak out, but, just one question; how did you get Creeper Peter not to stare at me?”

 

Derek shook his head, “No, that was his idea. When I told him my reasoning, he said it was sound and would try not to freak you out.”

 

Stiles felt his cheeks heat up a little, setting down the empty bottle before reaching over to pick at the stark white bandages on his right arm. “O-oh?”

 

Derek nodded, a small smile coming up. “Can I let the puppies up now? They want to make sure you’re okay.”

 

Stiles snorted, “Just let me empty my bladder first, otherwise I might pee if Erica jumps on me.”

 

***

 

“Hmm, I always knew you’d have moles _everywhere_.”

 

Stiles nearly fell flat on his face, an indignant squawk coming out before he pulled the tiny blue boy shorts the rest of the way up, turning to glare at the window where Peter was sitting in the sill, looking quite at home while he watched the boy get dressed. “What are you _doing_ watching me change, you _creep_!”

 

Peter shrugged, holding out a hot bag of Chinese food from Stiles’ favorite restaurant. Stiles was about to grab it from him and leave the room entirely, when he remembered that he was wearing literally nothing but panties that _just_ covered everything. He sighed, moving to the dresser and opening a drawer, humming in thought.

 

He was just going over the merits of shorts versus skirts when he realized that he had a much more amusing method of figuring things out, now sitting at his desk chair and staring intently at his ass.

 

See, Stiles wasn’t stupid. He knew that a man didn’t just stare that intently at your –and _only_ your- ass, as often and deeply as Peter did, without wanting to do something to it.

 

Stiles pulled out a loose teal shirt, pulling it over his head before turning back around, holding two items. One was a high waist-ed, pleated skirt, with pretty flowers all over it that had gotten with Lydia’s credit card, the last time she took him shopping. The other, a deep green pair of short shorts, that showed off nearly the same amount of leg. He held them both up, smiling when Peter finally dragged his eyes away from the soft bulge in the front of his panties. “Skirt, or shorts?”

 

He nearly laughed himself stupid later, while pulling the tiny skirt up, loving the way that Peter nearly pouted, the bag of Chinese food now covering the obvious bulge in the front of his pants.

 

It seems, someone else seemed to very much like his new choice of clothes.

 

***

 

So, see, Stiles _loves_ his pack. Erica and Issac were his babies, and Allison and Lydia were his girlfriends, they were awesome and took him shopping, and Malia cuddled with him and Scott and Derek were stupidly cute when they were pretending not to give each other goo-goo eyes across the room, and Peter… well, Peter was built, and, if they bulge in his pants was any indication, he was also packing heat, which appealed to Stiles on a much more shallow, size queen level.

 

But, there was just something about the absolutely _sour_ look that Derek and the kiddies gave them when they all came back to Derek’s loft, to find Stiles, sitting in Peter’s lap while the wolf got his tongue as deep in Stiles’ throat as possible.

 

You know, until Derek started to threaten bodily harm the next time he found the two of them like that.

 

“This place has become very boring since we were banned from doing the fun stuff.”

 

Peter grunted in agreement from above Stiles’ head, reading a book while mostly ignoring everyone else involved in their pack bonding night. Stiles sighed, making himself more comfortable tucked into Peter’s side while he blinked at the tv screen showing the last Hobbit movie. Allison was sitting with Lydia, trying not to look like she was already crying, less than half an hour in, but she was, and Lydia just cuddled her girlfriend closer because of it. Stiles leaned towards her other side, no longer tucked into Peter’s.

 

It took him nearly half the movie to realize that Peter was reading the book. As in, he was reading the exact book of the movie they were watching. Nerd.

 

When the movie was over though, Stiles was less than half awake, pulled into Lydia and Allison’s cuddle pile, and nearly snoring. Normally, Stiles would feel bad at leaving Peter for someone else, mostly just because Peter was like a touch starved puppy at the best of times, but Issac was on his other side, stoically looking like he wasn’t cuddling, even though he was firmly pressed into Peter’s rib cage. When he saw Peter getting up off the couch though, he frowned, “You’re taking me home, right?”

 

Peter looked down at him with a sigh, “Do I have to carry you?”

 

Stiles shrugged, trying to convince himself that getting up _would_ be a good idea. “Not the first time.”

 

Peter sighed, grabbing Stiles’ backpack off the ground before getting the teenager in his arms, a lot more gently than anyone in the room had expected.

 

Stiles just sighed, wrapping his arms around Peter’s neck and nuzzling into the wolf while Peter left the loft with quiet words towards Derek that he’d see him the next day for something. Stiles didn’t particularly care what, he had his wolf, and that’s all that mattered right then.

 

***

 

The tiny bell over the door in the bookstore jingled and Stiles sighed, heading out of the back room to help whoever was out there. He paused in the doorway though, face going red when he saw who it was.

 

Peter just gave Stiles a smirk and put the lunch bag down on the counter. He was a good boyfriend and brought Stiles things. “You stole my sweater.”

 

Stiles avoided Peter’s eyes, biting into his lower lip while he slid behind the counter. He _did_ steal Peter’s sweater. It was huge –even on Peter- and fell down to mid thigh on him, so all he had to do was pull on a pair of leggings and boots with it that morning. He felt tiny and swaddled inside, and had to admit, it felt amazing. “I look very good in this.”

 

Peter just gave him a lecherous grin, “You also _smell_ very good. You smell like mine, Stiles.”

 

Stiles blushed again, looking down. “So, having your dick in me doesn’t make me _smell_ like yours, then?”

 

Peter leered, “Well, that does too, but you always shower right after, wipes off most the scent. This, though, makes you smell like mine all day.”

 

Stiles blushes harder if possible, feeling like he might explode. Peter just snickers at him though, making Stiles hide his face in his arms with a groan. “You’re not cute.”

 

“That’s okay, you’re cute enough for both of us.”

 

Okay, that was just sweet. Stiles ducked his head out of his arms, pressing a wet smack to Peter’s cheek in thanks before going back into hiding. Peter just grinned at him, feeling ridiculously fond of this sweet, amazingly weird human. His tiny human.

 

***

 

Stiles was more than surprised when Peter _actually_ asked him out on a date. Hell, they’ve been fucking for a month and a half now; did they even _need_ to date?

 

“Calm down, Stiles. He said that one of his friends wanted him to bring a date to a party, so it’s not even really a date, it’s more like him using you as arm candy.”

 

Stiles stopped, halfway into a slightly padded bra while he thought about that. Malia seemed amused and Lydia sighed, taking over dressing him while Stiles just kept thinking that one over. “So, he’s just using me for… arm candy? I’m arm candy? Really? Also, I didn’t know that Peter had friends.”

 

Malia nodded, “Yep. You’re hot, and Peter says you give good head. I’m pretty sure his friends are like, frat boy friends.”

 

Stiles tugged out of Lydia’s arms, pulling his shirt on next, “He says I give good head? Wait, don’t all his frat friends know about the fire? Like, won’t they find it weird to see him so completely unscarred?”

 

Lydia shrugged, “If they find it weird, just say he had a really good plastic surgeon, or something.”

 

Stiles nodded, “Oh, I guess that makes sense.”

 

He looked at the bed, thinking on if he should wear pants or a skirt. Lydia held one up, looking approving. “Suspenders never go out of style.”

 

Stiles bit his lip, looking a bit unsure, “But, it’s not really, party type, is it?”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes, “Hun, when have you ever actually worn party clothes? You’re more of a ‘shows up _wearing_ clothes and everyone is relived at this’ kind of person.”

 

Stiles’ eyebrows went up, “That was only-“

 

Malia cut in fast, looking disapproving, “Don’t you dare say, ‘that was only one time’ because we _all_ know that it was many more times than one, and you have virtually no shame.”  


Stiles took a moment to give her an amazed look. “I want to argue with you, for the sake of my non-existent pride, but I’m mostly just amazed, because you saying I have no shame means that you recognize what shame is and I’m very proud of you for that.”

 

Malia grinned, looking happy at that, “Well, I recognize it, doesn’t mean I have it.”

 

Stiles nodded, “Yeah, shame is boring.”

 

Lydia snorted, moving forward to physically help Stiles into the black pleated skirt, straightening out the tiny shirt so it wasn’t caught in anything. “Shame is a concept forced on us by society, to keep us pliant and controlled.”

 

Stiles gave her a look of shock. “You’re actually on our side about this?”

 

Lydia looked horrified, “Stiles, when have I _ever_ given any indication that I think shame is a good thing?”

 

Malia looked excited, she knew the answer to that one! “One time, you told me that I had no shame when I was naked at the downtow-“

 

“That’s because your ass was in strangers’ faces! Malia, if you do not have complete and total consent from everyone in the situation, then showing them yourself naked, is nothing more than rude and uncalled for.”

 

Malia sighed, “Fine.”

 

Stiles looked between the two of them, wanting to ask, but also wanting to purge this entire half of the conversation from his mind to get rid of the urge. He knows that if he asks, he probably won’t like the actual answer.

 

***

 

“Oh my _god_ , Peter, all your friends are _total fuckboys_. Not even Jackson is that bad!”

 

Peter did actually cringe at that. “Yeah, I’m not even sure why I agreed to come to this thing.”

 

Stiles looked away towards the other side of the bar where some of the girlfriends there were talking with each other, “Well, just don’t let on to any of them that I’m a senior in high school, I don’t think anyone even in this group would go for that. I see free booze, and if I’m going to stay here through this whole thing, I’m going to need to be drunker than this.”

 

Peter didn’t stop him, just stared at his ass on the walk away. No one ever said Peter was a good person. He’s not. He sighed when he heard someone say his name, turning back to see a more than slightly drunk version of one of his old college roommates. “Yes?”

 

The man –James, if Peter remembers correctly- hiccupped a little, slumping into the bar next to Peter, “What gives, man? I thought you were _gay_?”

 

Peter cringed. He wasn’t gay, he just pre-dominantly liked boys. “I ‘m not gay, James. I just like dick, if that’s an apt enough response for your impaired mind to comprehend.”

 

James stood there for a minute, trying to decipher that in his head, “You’re- you… what? You mean, you bottom?”

 

Peter face palmed. Christ, why does he torture himself like this? “Believe it or not, it _has_ been known to happen a time or two.”

 

James sighed, taking a few minutes to leaver himself up onto the barstool next to Peter’s. Peter just watched, a little amused. “Guess that doesn’t happen much anymore, since you’ve got a girl now. She’d have to strap one on to do that, and that’s time consuming.”

 

Peter looked away with a small smirk, “You know, last I checked, she’s got one bigger than you have.”

 

James looked surprised, “Wait, like, she _came_ with it?”

 

Peter nodded, “Yeah, and it’s very nice, too.”

 

James got a sour look on his face, “Ugh, lucky you.”

 

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Why’s that?”

 

James just sighed, leaning into his folded arms. Peter wondered if he was just going to take a nap right there. He might. “Can’t get her pregnant. I have I _four_ children.”

 

Peter nodded consolingly, though, he didn’t really feel it. His family while growing up had had 10+ children in it at any given moment. He kind of missed that.

 

He glanced over to see Stiles, doing shots with the other girls.

 

He might not have that one, but he had a new family now, and it was growing. He didn’t need kids, just Stiles.

 

***

 

“If you hurt him, I’m not even planning on killing you, I’m just gonna put a bullet in your dick.”

 

Peter cringed, standing in the doorway to the sheriff’s office with a basket –yes, a cutsie little basket with a big white ribbon wrapped around it and everything, because Stiles is cute as fuck and intent on killing everyone with kindness- of lunch that he was under strict instructions to deliver to his father.

 

“Okay, I’m not even sure if I would survive that because of the blood loss, though.”

 

John shrugged, “Don’t hurt him, then.”

 

Peter nodded, setting down the basket before moving to beat a hasty retreat. “I won’t.”

 

***

 

The first day back at school was always a lazy time for catching up and grabbing new syllabus for your parents to sign, and so Stiles barely had anything more than his backpack, with a book he’s borrowing from Mrs. Myrik to do translations from. Apparently, Polish isn’t actually that common of a language in America outside of the Stilinski household.

 

That had actually come as a shock to him, seeing as he’d learned it before learning English, and still regularly spoke it with his father and grandparents, but, it was at least useful in this case.

 

He wasn’t paying much attention to the front of the room, homeroom actually, where Finstock was silently ignoring the students until the bell rang, taking role while the kids filed in.

 

He sat in the back, his usual chair there, and pulled out the book, going back to his translations, using his phone to look up something he didn’t know.

 

The final bell rang for kids to be in their classes and Finstock frowned. “Has anyone seen Stilinski? He never misses a chance to ruin my day, this is unlike him.”

 

Stiles looked down, suddenly a bit self conscious in his seat, slowly raising his hand. He wasn’t even that dressed up, just a pair of nylons under the hoodie he’d gotten from an online shop that sold knee length hoodies that he couldn’t resist. His boots were plain brown ones, and Lydia had helped him do his make up that morning, because apparently, he doesn’t actually see that well directly in the morning after waking up and nearly ended up blinding himself with a mascara brush, but, he didn’t think he looked that odd.

 

Finstock squinted at him in the back of the room before sighing, relived, and muttering about how he was just glad they didn’t have a new student in the home room, because that always fucked him up, and marking Stiles down as there.

 

“You know, all I really feel compelled to tell you, is that I hope your summer was as interesting as its outcome looks. For niceties though, I also feel compelled to ask you if we should be using different pronouns.”

 

Stiles’ face went a little red, and he shook his head, “Whatever you feel most comfortable using. I have no strong opinions any way.”

 

Finstock nodded, looking pleased, “Good, because I don’t want to offend you when I inevitably fuck up and forget the new ones. Anyone else have any life changing decisions you would like to talk about? Come on, anything goes. Anyone want to talk about an awful decision that you regret? Anyone get a new dog? I like dogs. I got a puppy at the beginning of the summer. Dog’s are great, they love you no matter how much you rant about things.”

 

Stiles just snickered a little, holding back from saying that he had a whole pack of them at home. He could feel Malia giving him odd looks though, from behind her bono shades. She liked wearing those during homeroom, because it helped her nap. She was surprisingly lazy in the mornings.

 

Stiles just gave her a look back smiling when she just sighed and went to sleep in her arms. It was almost amazing to watch, how fast it happened.

 

***

 

Stiles wasn’t all that sure why he’d been so worried in the first place. Not much changed, or, at least, nothing really changed for the worse. In fact, he’d say that everything was pretty much better for it. It was just clothes. Why the hell should people wear things that make them feel so uncomfortable in their own skin, when they could just say ‘fuck it’ and be happy for once.

 

Well, he’s done hiding in shadows where everything sucks. He could feel the way that he smiled more now, and he’s pretty sure that he hasn’t been this happy in years.

 

He just… fits, now. And that’s good.

 

Turns out, there are some pretty good uses for change after all.

**Author's Note:**

> It's shit, but it's MY shit, and so I posted anyways. Also, you shouldn't complain, it's Stiles in a skirt, how could you complain about that? You can't, that's how.
> 
> I have NO idea if this will have more fics for it, but if any of you ask me if I will post more chapters to it, I will cut a bitch.
> 
> ALSO, I just remembered this, but that part about the pot brownie where Stiles said he was allergic? That actually happened to me one year. I don't think I EVER felt that much pain in my life before. I don't deny that I was high off my gourd, I KNOW I was, but I also know what pain feels like. And, it wasn't just the pain, the swollen blood vessels in my head actually kept choking off my frontal lobe and so I consistently lost vision in my eyes, to the point where I thought I was dreaming, because my vision just kept CUTTING OUT, and I was so angry, because my dad (the person that gave me the cookie) didn't believe me about the pain. Overall, being high on Christmas wasn't all that bad. I went home and made pasta and passed out for 12 hours, but when I woke up again (no longer high, which is why I know I'm allergic) the pain was still there.
> 
> Moral of the story is, if you don't know if you're allergic to pot or not, have some fever reducers on hand for in case you get swelling in the head, because that shit is PAINFUL, and I COULD have had fun, but nope, I got cut out vision and a migraine times 100.


End file.
